


Pork Chop

by Kinda_Kozy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1997 Summer, Bickering, Comfort Food, F/M, Fluff, Overthinking, Ron you poor nugget, Silly, missing moment, sprinkle of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinda_Kozy/pseuds/Kinda_Kozy
Summary: There were about three things Hermione was absolutely positive of:First, Ron was a pratSecond, there was a part of him-and she didn't know how dominant that part was-that hungered for her pork chopThird, Hermione was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	Pork Chop

**Author's Note:**

> Yes...MORE FOOD!
> 
> What started as a plot bunny joke about the back cover blurb for the first twilight book has become one of my most beloved one-shots.

Ronald Weasley was, for the moment, mostly a content young man. It was the peak of summer, no schoolwork, and he was safe within the confines of the Burrow surrounded by his family at the dinner table; best of all, it was pork chop night! With best friend at each of his shoulders, there were just a few minor implications in this picture. 

The first was simply the inescapable fate that awaited him and his friends in the short time to come--when they planned to leave all this comfort to lead the fight against the most dangerous wizard of the millenia! …and then of course there was the desire which grew daily to snog the living daylights out of one of those best friends. Last, but not least: He was still hungry!

He looked down at his mournfully empty plate, and then to the table, all the food was gone, except for the brussel sprouts, which nobody ever ate… except Fred…no one really knew why, not even George. Ron moved his search to the plates of unfinished first helpings that he hoped would become his second. Certainly not his brothers; they were as wise as Ron when it came to eating a Weasley dinner, eat quick or not at all.

Harry? No, his plate was clean, as well; however, it was not because he had finished his allotted pork chop, but instead because Ginny seemed to have just beaten Ron to it!

‘What a Pig!’ he thought disdainfully as Ginny returned to her seat across the table with her stolen prize and commenced to eat.

Fleur had already volunteered her cut to Bill, who was still exploring his new taste for rarer meat. Ron’s eyes narrowed at the nearly newlyweds, tinged with longing. 

Only one option left... with all the nonchalance his hunger would allow, he peered over to Hermione’s plate.

Lo and Behold, there was still a nice chunk of pork left on her plate! He couldn’t get too excited, though. He needed to move carefully, if he was going to get what he wanted. 

Hermione was, for lack of a better word, in a delicate state of mind since the summer began, after effectively turning herself into an orphan for the good of the magical war effort. Not to mention, she was the aforementioned friend with whom Ron was having trouble not snogging on a daily basis. Needless to say, Ron had been working very hard to keep her happy since she moved into the Burrow.

“Hey Hermione,” He said with invented disinterest. “You gonna finish that pork chop?” 

“Yes, Ron,” Hermione answered with a bemused smile, as if unsure whether or not the question was rhetorical. She took a bite of mashed potatoes.

“You sure?” Ron eased his fork closer to her plate.

“Ronald, if you so much as touch my pork chop, I will fork you.” She warned, before taking a sip of pumpkin ale; watching his hand, all the while.

Ginny began to mutter through a bite, “I’m sure you’d love to fork my br-” until there was a thump under the table and she stopped choking softly in surprise.

“All I reckon is,” Ron regrouped, attempting to charm her with a compliment, “That’s an awfully big pork chop, for someone your size.”

“Ron, I’m not a child,” Her brow furrowed, “If I thought I wasn’t going to be able to finish it, I wouldn’t have chosen it.” 

“Totally right,” Ron nodded vigorously, doubling back on his argument. “But if--and I’m just putting it out there--if you don’t finish it, I could take it off your plate.”

“Ron,” Hermione put her fork down to properly confront him, “Why are you under the impression I’m not going to finish it.”

Looking her straight in the eye, he momentarily forgot what they were talking about. She was so cute in the warm amber light of the dining room, with her face set with a dignified passion that overwhelmed him every time they argued, even if their only dispute was over a pork chop.

“Well... you’re not eating it.” Ron pointed out bluntly, losing patience for this chase.

“Because I’m too preoccupied discussing it with you!” Hermione said, shrilly.

“Well, then don’t discuss. Eat!” Ron prompted with a stutter.

“I will!” 

Ron watched Hermione lift her fork and knife to dig in.

“….. Yeah but are you sure?” Ron begged, as she stabbed the chop.

“Ronald.” Hermione picked her pork chop up on her fork in one giant piece, to wag at him reprovingly, “I’m just about ready to lick this entire porkchop if it will prove that I do intend to finish it! Would you want it then?”

Ron silently considered the possibility of eating something Hermione had purposely licked, but George responded for him, from the other seat neighboring Hermione. 

“I don’t think that’d make much of a difference, Hermione.” He paused to eat a bite of potato with his fingers, “Ronnie’s eaten things that have been dropped in the jon.”

“Oh, yeah!” Fred chimed in, across the table; he shook his fork back at his twin with nonchalance. “But George, that’s not really fair. He didn’t actually know at the time.” The twins mirrored each other with a devilish grin, and eyed Ron, who fumed red. 

Just about everyone at the table was thoroughly disgusted. Ron feverishly tried to remember the last time he ate something the twins had offered him. Then he realized he ought to use this personal setback to a present advantage.

“You still hungry after that?” He challenged Hermione.

“Yes!” Hermione said; more in spite of Ron, at this point.

“Good!” He replied. 

‘BUGGER!’ his hunger groaned. 

“I’m glad,” he proclaimed as he crossed his arms and turned away from her. 

‘Bloody hell!’

“Me too,” Hermione finalized the statement by cutting a piece of meat and ripped it angrily off her fork with her teeth.

‘Dammit,’ his mind harrumphed listening to her indignant chewing. What a mess--no pork chop and he had soured Hermione’s mood, for sure.

“Why are you like this?’ his self-loathing took command of the voice in his head, his reflection in his water glass scowling back at him.

Still glum, he chanced a look back over to Hermione. He met her eyes, as she was also glancing up at him. Blushing deep, she turned away, and he silently did the same. 

He drummed his fingers on the table and frowned at the kitchen door, waiting for his mother to bring in the pudding.


End file.
